


The Many Loves of Sebastian Vael

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Friendship, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabbles featuring Sebastian x ALL THE LOVE INTERESTS! (Except Sera, of course, she gets friendship fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alistair

Alistair sucked in a deep breath at the sight of the man in front of him. Prince Sebastian swept into a bow, his bright blue eyes crinkling in the corners as he looked up and smiled. He seemed so at ease in his role, while Alistair fidgeted and tugged at his hem, feeling naked and overdressed all at the same time. Alistair let his eyes wander over the man, following the line of his back, noting the way the white silk ran across every muscle and curve, like water flowing along a river. Prince Sebastian coughed pointedly and Alistair belatedly realized that he was waiting on him. “Arise,” he commanded, wincing at the way his voice cracked. Even after all these years, he still felt like a boy merely pretending at being king. Sebastian finally straightened, his smile turning gentle and Alistair could feel his embarrassment fading at the kindness in his face.


	2. Leliana

Sebastian was drawn to her, drawn the way the moth is drawn to the flame. He could not focus on the Mother’s words; he was all but deaf to the Chant. He remained kneeling, his eyes locked onto the woman in the next pew. She sat there, her head bowed low until her forehead was resting on her clasped hands. The light from the stained glass window fell upon her, lighting up her red hair until it glowed brighter than the fire that sat at the feet of Andraste.

Suddenly, she lifted her head, as though sensing him. She turned and they locked eyes. He was struck by the sadness etched into every detail of her face. He wanted to know what had happened to put it there, he wanted to reach out and comfort her, to hold her hand and kiss the sorrow away. Maybe if he could make her happy, he would be happy too. Sebastian quickly looked down at his lap. Want, want, want. He was a Brother of the Chantry; he was no longer allowed to want.

He felt a warm presence against his side. The red-haired woman said nothing, only smiled, as she reached over to clasp his hands in her own. Together, they prayed.


	3. Zevran

“Zevran Arainai, at your service,” the elf spoke as he bowed. His manners might have been mistaken for a nobleman’s, if not for the lecherous smirk on his face. “Formerly of the Antivan Crows, but now I am… a freelancer, if you will. I was told you were in need of my services.”

“Oh, um,” Sebastian floundered as he searched for something to say- _anything_ to say. The only explanation for the sudden appearance of the elf lay in Lord Billoughby, Sebastian’s only ally. Billoughby was a staunch traditionalist and had announced his support for Starkhaven’s rightful heir, though he had told Sebastian that it was a foolhardy endeavor to challenge Goran outright without an army. This was evidently his idea of an alternative solution. “I might not like Goran, but he’s still my cousin-”

“Ah, a family affair!” Zevran interrupted. “In that case, I will offer a discount.”

“No, no! I don’t want to kill anyone! I’ve had enough of that sort of thing,” Sebastian insisted.

“A lover not a fighter?” Zevran asked, and Sebastian couldn’t tell if he was mocking him or not. “I know how you feel. I am the same way.”

Sebastian could only stare in disbelief.

“It is true!” Zevran insisted as he came closer with all the grace of a cat who had spotted its prey. “Perhaps, if you truly do not wish your rival dead, I can offer you something else?”


	4. Morrigan

Morrigan stepped into the Prince’s council chamber, watching like a cat at a mousehole as the man paced the room. Maps were strewn across the table, half of them scribbled on in the Prince’s own hand. “If we are to be victorious, we will need to come up with something to combat demons,” the Prince announced without looking at her. “The Veil is thin and broken. There are more abominations in Kirkwall than there are anywhere else in the world. I cannot risk sending my mages on this campaign.”

“Did I not say I would take care of this?” Morrigan demanded as she came to stand next to him, reaching out with one slender, pale hand to stop his worrying. The Prince glanced at his advisor before quickly looking away. He always did that, as though he feared her. Or, more accurately, he feared what he might become in her presence.

“I know what I’m talking about. I lived there for ten years. Kirkwall… is the Void itself. Even you could fall.”

Morrigan let out a laugh, her fingertips running along his chest, dipping into the folds of his robe. “Mages fall because they fear. They fear they have no choice but to accept a demon’s promise. I do not fear demons or death or the Void itself. Trust in me, Sebastian: I will never fall.”


	5. F!Hawke

Over the years, Sebastian had seen many weddings celebrated in Kirkwall’s Grand Chantry from his window in the abbey. There had been singing and dancing, delicious cakes and free flowing wine, pretty brides floating by like butterflies, handsome grooms clapping in time to the music. He would watch the procession as they went, the happy couple arm-in-arm, as their families and friends trailed behind them, throwing pressed flowers into the air.

His own wedding was a quiet and somber affair.

The only witness had been the Grand Cleric as her hands reached up towards the heavens, calling onto the Maker and his Bride to bless their union. There were no flowers, no ribbons, no colorful dresses. Sebastian wore his armor, and Marian had donned the black robes of a Chantry sister.

Her hand rested in his, palm to palm, and he wondered at how small it was. These hands that wielded a staff so fiercely, hands that Sebastian knew would never falter.

Afterwards, they did not kiss, did not linger. They both returned to their duties: Sebastian helping to prepare for the evening service, Marian to manage her estate. Their love was not a passionate affair, quick and hot like a flame. It was a river, still and quiet and deep. He was safe in the knowledge that no matter how far away she was, or what the future might hold, Marian would always be there. She would always choose him.


	6. M!Hawke

Sebastian felt as though he had been transported to another world or another time. He sat at the mouth of the cave, shivering in the damp cold, as he watched the ocean froth and rage.

He could feel the heat radiating off of Garrett as he silently crept up behind him. There were hands gripping his waist, running over the chainmail that protected him, pulling at it until it fell away. Sebastian leaned his head back and moaned as lips pressed into rain-soaked skin. The last few years suddenly seemed like a dream; the Sebastian who had taken a vow of chastity was a stranger to him. For the life of him, Sebastian could not remember why he had ever denied this beautiful man.

There was nothing left to tie him to this world. His family, the Grand Cleric- they were lost to him now. All but Garrett. He might as well let go, safe in the knowledge that Garrett would be there to catch him.


	7. Merrill

Merrill was perched on Sebastian’s lap and staring at her cards so hard Sebastian thought they might catch on fire. The Prince tilted his head so that he could whisper in her ear, “Discard the Magister,”

A pink tongue snaked out between Merrill’s lips as she frowned. “But it’s one of my highest cards,” she whispered back.

“Trust me.”

Merrill nodded and discarded the Magister. She reached down to draw another and – if Sebastian had counted his cards right – the next card should be a…

Divine.

Merrill crowed her victory as she laid down her hand. Four Divines. She had finally beaten Isabela at her own game.

Isabela smirked as Merrill leaned forward to rake in her earnings. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was something nefarious going on here. But that can’t be. Merrill doesn’t know to cheat and you’re a priest.”

Merrill leaned back into Sebastian’s chest, snuggling deep as she grinned from ear to ear. “It is better to ask forgiveness than permission,” Sebastian answered sagely.

Isabela laughed. “I can drink to that!”


	8. Anders

It was obscene, but Maker help him, he could not stop.

Sebastian's blue eyes flashed towards him, the dull serenity of the Chantry Brother rapidly fading to the fiery passion of the Prince. Anders lived for these moments, when he pushed and pushed until Sebastian had no choice but to unleash the full might of his tongue. Gone were his pretty words; they had been replaced with stinging barbs. Anders could feel Justice singing for a fight as the adrenaline rushed through him.

Anders watched him, feeling a rush of heat flow through, knowing Sebastian felt it too as his face grew red with anger. A picture came to his mind, of Sebastian on his knees, his black Chantry robes pooling around him. Anders’s cock in his mouth. He wanted to choke him, to bury himself so far inside Sebastian that he would always be a part of him. He wanted to take him in the Chantry, lay him out before Andraste and show Her that Sebastian belonged to him.

He wanted to win.


	9. Isabela

“I grew weary of the strings of nameless lovers and the nights full of mindless pleasure. You will, too.”

In hindsight, Sebastian should have known those words would only bring him trouble. Isabela took them as a challenge. For days now she had turned her charms on him, running her fingers up his arm, pressing her body against his as she whispered every obscene fantasy she had ever had about him. But her end goal continued to elude him, however. It wasn’t just the sex; that was simply a perk, what she really wanted was something else. Was she trying to prove that despite his words he truly missed those wild, halcyon days?

Her breasts were soft against him as she leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear. Alarm and desire snaked through him in equal parts and Sebastian wished he had worn his breastplate today. Isabela chuckled at the blush rising hotly on his cheeks and whispered, “Not so above it all, are you?”

And just like that, the pieces all fell together. Sebastian looked down at her, at the triumphant smirk on her face, and knew that he had no words to explain what he had felt all those years ago. That he was worth more than a night, that he was capable of giving and receiving love without the use of his body. She deserved love too, but nothing he could say would make her believe. Preaching seldom worked, if he wanted her to believe he would have to lead by example.

Sebastian cupped her cheeks in his hands and whatever she saw in his eyes gave her pause. Isabela stared up at him, like a deer caught by a snare, as Sebastian pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. His kisses were feather-soft as he moved to her cheek, first one and then the other, before finally pressing his lips against hers, chaste and loving and kind.

When he pulled back, Isabela could only stand there, silent. And then she stumbled away, fleeing his too gentle hands.


	10. Fenris

It was inevitable, really.

At first, Fenris had not known what to make of the priest and his compliments. He had thought the man wanted something from him, but years passed and Sebastian demanded nothing. Then he assumed that Sebastian was only paying lipservice. Like the whores in the Blooming Rose, the priests traded in comfort of a kind, saying what needed to be said in order to lift up their flock, no matter how untrue. But it was not hard to see the earnestness and sincerity shining in Sebastian’s blue eyes. He really believed all the things he said about Fenris.

Fenris felt… different in Sebastian’s presence. He wanted to be the man Sebastian thought of him as. In battle, he stomped his foot and let out a war cry that bellowed through the cave, calling every enemy towards him. He would kill them all. He would show Sebastian that he was worthy of him.

It was inevitable.

Hawke and Varric had laughed themselves silly– after they had been assured that the wound was minor and he would live, of course. Fenris groaned to himself as he stretched out over the sandy beach; they would have to camp overnight while the potion did its work. Sebastian leaned over him, his hands hard at work changing the bandages that were wrapped across his torso. “You must think I am a fool,” Fenris muttered dejectly.

Sebastian laughed, bright and clear. “Oh, yes,” he said. “A wonderful, brave, handsome fool.” And then he leaned down and kissed him.


	11. Dorian

“If I was but a younger man,” Dorian bemoaned into his drink. “I would be having some very satisfying revenge sex right now. Just think what Father would say if he heard I seduced a chaste priest!”

Sebastian snorted as he fingered his empty cup. “I would be the one to do the seducing. A tumble with a Tevinter mage? My goodly pious father would have died of shame.”

Dorian leaned back in his chair. “I do have good memories of Halward, somewhere. But all I remember is the bad. And yet… I still miss him. Is that wrong?”

“No,” Sebastian said with a shake of his head. “Sometimes I feel… I feel as though I had been robbed of something I never actually owned. So long as my father was alive, there was always the hope that he would one day love me. Even though I know in my heart of hearts, no matter how much time we could have had it would never have happened.”

“I know,” Dorian sighed. They sat in silence for a moment, before Dorian braved a glance. There was a cheeky grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Still, we shouldn’t let that spoil our fun. What do you say, Sebastian? Are you up for a little revenge? For old times sake?”


	12. Josephine

Josephine had planned everything down to the last detail.

The new Prince of Starkhaven needed allies. He was a former brother who had given up all earthly ties, his family’s traditional supporters had all abandoned him in hopes of seizing the throne for themselves, and he had no friends amongst the aristocracy to speak of. Normally, a marriage would be in order, preferably to someone who belonged to the old order. But Sebastian refused to wed the former Prince Goran and no other noble family would risk their standing by linking their fates with a Prince who would more than likely be deposed within a year.

So, the Prince had looked elsewhere for the support he needed and found it in a well-known diplomat of minor rank.

Josephine had quickly agreed and started securing the funds to host a grand wedding, a fete that would announce to the world the might and power of Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven. She had done all of this without ever seeing her groom. And now as she stepped through the Chantry doors, ready to pledge her life to this strange man, she felt her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

She glanced shyly through her veil and saw the Prince standing at his place by the altar, one hand outstretched towards her. He was young and handsome, a fairy tale come to life. But it was his eyes that struck her. Kind and gentle and infinitely sad.

Josephine clasped her hand in his. She could learn to love this man.


	13. Blackwall

Blackwall could feel the sweat beading against his forehead as the kid leaned against him. He stared up at him, his blue eyes wide in wonder, completely innocent of the effect he was having on him. Blackwall cursed himself as he reached for his tankard; he was a terrible, dirty man. He should… he should…

“Please,” the Starkhaven lad begged, his voice thick and deep. “I want to know everything about the Grey Wardens.”

Blackwall found himself hypnotized by the lad’s tongue, the way it rolled when he said his “R’s”, the flash of pink. Bad, bad, this was bad. He needed to think of something. Anything. What lie could he tell this kid?

The lad seemed too pure to touch, his white armor gleaming, his face the picture of purity, he… he suddenly had his hand down Blackwall’s pants.

“I’m just fascinated by the Wardens,” he breathed as he gripped Blackwall in a sure and steady hand, stroking him as though he had been born to it. “Is it true what they say about Grey Warden stamina?”


	14. Cassandra

Cassandra glanced at the Chantry Brother as he arranged the bouquet of crystal grace around the altar. Summerday was fast approaching and the Chantry had suddenly transformed into an explosion of color. Everywhere there were flowers and ribbons. The village girls came to service in their prettiest dresses, hoping to catch the eye of some lucky man. Couples walked down lanes arm-and-arm, and everywhere love was in the air. A pang of jealousy flashed through her heart, but Cassandra quickly pushed away.

She did not have time for such frivolities. She had a job to do.

The Brother smiled at the flowers and could not help but lean down to smell them. Cassandra was captivated by his loveliness. As he straightened up, he turned his head and saw the Seeker staring right at him. With a grin, the brother plucked one of the flowers from its vase and sauntered over to her. He held out the flower to her, twisting it between his fingers in front of her eyes. For a moment, Cassandra had no idea what to do. This was… this was for her? But she was a Seeker, and he was Brother! It was highly inappropriate and… and so very romantic.

Cassandra lifted her head to look at him, her eyes catching his and he could see the shyness in those brown irises. With a gentle smile he tucked the flower into her braid and kissed her cheek, before walking away. With a trembling hand, Cassandra reached up to finger the delicate petals.

That night, as she lay curled in bed with her book, she could not help but envision that handsome Brother as the novel’s dashing hero.


	15. The Iron Bull

“You shouldn’t be out here. Tal-Vashoth are in the area.”

Sebastian nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a man’s deep voice behind him. He whirled around and came face to face with the largest Qunari he had ever seen. His horns stretched out across the entire breadth of his shoulders which were large and heavy with muscles. Unlike the Qunari he had seen at the compound, this one grinned down at him and seemed thoroughly amused by Sebastian’s reaction. It made him want to prove himself. “I know,” Sebastian answered. “That’s why I’m here. I’m hunting them down with my friend.”

The Qunari glanced around in mock surprise. “Is your friend invisible?” He asked.

Sebastian fidgeted. “We got separated,” he admitted with a blush.

“Don’t worry,” the Qunari assured him. “The Iron Bull will protect you.” He flexed one arm and Sebastian couldn’t help but follow the line of musculature.

“That’s not a Qunari name,” Sebastian protested.

“Know many Qunari do you?”

“A few,” Sebastian answered vaguely with a cheeky grin of his own. “You’re quite unlike any Qunari I’ve ever seen.” There was an open appreciation in his voice.

The Iron Bull grinned down at him and let his arm drape across Sebastian’s shoulders. “I can show you a lot more of me if you’d like.”


	16. Solas

The elf had wandered into town as though in a daze. Sebastian was sweeping the front steps of the Chantry when he saw him, a handsome man in rags and his brown hair so matted and tangled it resembled the twisted roots of trees. Sebastian thought his clothes - what was left of them - might have been Dalish but he had no vallaslin; he could not place either the elf’s origin or his age, for he looked both very young and very old. He glanced at everything but without really seeing, like a man who had just woken from a dream and could not yet distinguish between reality and the Fade.

The elf may not have noticed what was going on around him, but Sebastian did. He was drawing too much unwanted attention from the nobles. Soon, they would turn on this interloper.

Without thinking, Sebastian dropped his broom and ran up to him, gently taking his arm as he led him towards the Chantry. The elf blinked his eyes and focused on Sebastian’s face. He reached up with a hand and delicately traced the curves of his brow, his cheek and nose, finally against his lips. Sebastian blushed hotly at the sudden feeling stirring inside him but could not bring himself to shake the man’s hand away.


	17. Cullen

An explosion had torn them apart. An explosion had brought them together.

Sebastian stared at Cullen from across his desk, neither one knowing what to say. It had been several years since the prince had fled Kirkwall with Hawke, leaving the Knight-Captain to pick up the pieces. “You look well,” Sebastian finally said, breaking the tense silence over them.

Cullen nodded, glancing quickly at him before looking away. He had no cause to feel bitter. Looks and fleeting touches were all they had ever had. All they dared to have. They both had their duties. “I’m no longer taking lyrium.”

Sebastian’s face lit up and it nearly took Cullen’s breath away. “I’m so happy.” He always said it like he meant it. Like nothing in the world mattered as much to him.

They fell silent again, neither one knowing what to say but both wanting to cross the bridge that lay between their hearts.


	18. Best Friends 5Ever

“Maker, I hate Orlesians,” Sebastian muttered into his glass.

The elf girl beside him snorted. “I know, right? Bunch of fancy nobs with nothing better to do than stab each other with dessert forks.”

Sebastian faked a gasp, placing one hand above his breast as though he had never heard something so scandalous. “Oh no, not zee desert fork!” He said in his best – and worst – Orlesian accent. “How barbaric!”

The girl laughed and, with a conspiratorial grin, leaned over to whisper, “Wanna throw croissants at them? Ten points if you knock one of their wigs off.”

“That would be a sin,” Sebastian said with a laugh, already stuffing his pockets with bread.


End file.
